


Edification for a Fortunate Soul

by aTasteofCaramell



Series: Requiem [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Feels, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Gen, James is too pure for this world seriously, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, POV James Potter, References to Abuse, References to Depression, Relationship Study, Young James Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aTasteofCaramell/pseuds/aTasteofCaramell
Summary: James Potter had three friends. They each opened his eyes in their own way.





	Edification for a Fortunate Soul

James Potter had three friends. They each opened his eyes in their own way.

Peter showed him the value of the weak. That those forgotten, ignored, and unnoticed held within them the ineffable jewels of human connection. The untalented, the unattractive, the most surprising pleasantness. Completely opposite of him—he’d be hard-pressed to find one more unlike himself—he would never have thought to seek out his friendship if fortune hadn’t brought Peter his way by happenstance. Not because he’d have intentionally shunned him, but simply because he’d have never thought to _notice_ him. Peter was one thought worthless, one that many were puzzled as to why he was around James Potter, one that many assumed he simply was too stupid to realize that they didn’t want him (because why on earth would three of the brightest, best-liked students actually like him?), one that many supposed was simply tolerated. And yet to think all of this, even unconsciously, even unintentionally, was to miss out on so much more. 

Ecstatically happy about his friends’ triumphs, utterly lacking in jealousy; a pure soul who took joy in simply being close to his friends. A blind soul, perhaps, who refused to see faults, so one-sidedly devoted. A persevering cheerleader who expected nothing from them in return. He was so lacking in anger or annoyance towards them, so lacking in his own confidence even as he was so overwhelmingly confident in them.

“Do you want to say that again?” Peter yelled one time, startling everybody around, marching towards a group of Slytherins who had been giving James the evil eye. “You think James cheated last game, do you?” The Slytherins didn’t look like they knew whether to laugh, ignore him, or hex him on the spot, and they simply stood staring as Peter’s entire face went red and, a head shorter than the smallest of them, he bawled in their faces. “Do you want to say it again? DO YOU?!”

“You know, Peter,” James commented later when he got out of detention, “If you showed half as much gumption when anybody talks down to you as when they take the piss out of me, no one’d ever bother you.”

“How did you even hear them?” asked Sirius. “They were on the other side of the courtyard.”

Peter was unintentionally funny, surprised at his own successes, endearing in his own incompetence. So forgiving it was easy to forget to be kind, to temper hurtful remarks. When James snarked, “A ‘P’ again, Peter? Well, it goes with your name at least,” and Peter bemoaned sadly, “I know. I’m an idiot,” without animosity, and James had to check himself and apologize, and then Peter simply looked startled like he couldn’t imagine what James was apologizing to him for. And then, eventually, James learned to think before he spoke, to understand that some jokes were better left unsaid, that a laugh from Sirius wasn’t necessarily a good enough reward for causing sadness in another’s eyes.

*

Remus showed him the strength of the injured. He didn’t see it at first, because Remus hid it so expertly. On the surface he was so excruciatingly dull, methodical,  _boring_ , despite the interesting scars on his face: scribbling notes furiously in class, leaning so far forward that the table appeared to be cutting him in half, reading his textbooks at mealtimes, always rising earlier than the rest of them to spend time doing research for homework in the library, seeming to have no interest in friends, or other people at all. It took James a long time to see: it took a young Ravenclaw blowing up their cauldron in potions, and another Ravenclaw turning to Remus in disgust, “I can’t _believe_ someone that stupid got sorted into my house,” and Remus saying mildly as the bell rang, “Hmm. Yes. Well, I hope the rest of your day is as pleasant as you are. Come on, Peter.” And he led the short, plump boy next to him across the room where they helped the unfortunate Ravenclaw mop up her mess of a potion.

And then, later, James saw his actions as a desperate determination to rise above his circumstances, prove himself worthy, and perhaps educate himself out of the hole in which he had been unfairly shoved. He made James step back, look at his own life. He was one of the cleverest students, yes, but—how much of that had been handed to him? How much better could he be if he’d really worked? Remus was always more tired than the rest of them just by nature of his illness, and yet he pushed himself ten times harder. James saw him desperately want friends, and yet understood eventually why he tried so hard to keep them away at first. “I should go,” he had burst out suddenly as they crouched in the corridor. “You don’t want me, really—I’m not really that great to be around—”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say,” James had answered, peering out around the corner as he shoved a struggling Bludger into Remus's arms. “Now when Sirius gives the signal, chuck this out the window as hard as you can.”

Remus showed him the hurt of prejudice—the enormous well of endurance that the scorned had to carry every day, simply to survive every day. The ability to not react when somebody made rude comments about his scars, to shrug off accusations about how the teachers favored him by never punishing him for being absent, to remain calm when others discussed the savagery and insuppressible evil that must lurk in werewolves’ souls. He showed him what incredible effort it took to not show the hurt, to fight constantly the voices that entered into conversation with him, casually telling him that he was hopeless, possessed an evil soul, was nothing more than a savage beast, could never live a normal life, could never, never, never. He showed him the exhaustion and despair and depression that dogged his every footstep—how he fell asleep at mealtimes after his transformations, how he sobbed quietly late at night. He showed him true courage—the courage to get out of bed every morning, to try again, and again, and again, and again—to not run away from the moon and from the people who hurt him with their remarks, but to stay, and to transform again, and again, and again. To constantly face his fear, to have the courage to believe in himself that he would not hurt, that he would not kill, despite knowing full well that he had no control, despite being unable to see an end in sight, knowing that the pain would haunt him for the rest of his life.

And James learned to pay attention, to notice others’ needs before they noticed them themselves, to step up and give them what they needed without being asked and even despite their half-hearted protests. He learned the meaning of living for someone other than himself.

*

Sirius showed him the meaning of abuse. The emotions that could be hidden deep down, far beneath the surface of an eager grin and a mocking laugh and a confident strut. He showed him the brokenness of family, the rage of parents, the grief of losing someone who hadn’t died but rather thrown you away. It was Sirius who showed him the suppression of emotions, to the point where they burst out in uncontrolled hurricanes of fury.

He'd known very soon after meeting Sirius that he’d found his best friend for life. What he discovered over the next few years a reality that shocked him to his core. He first walked in on Sirius in their dorm room in the middle of a beautiful Sunday afternoon, planning to ask him what he was doing inside—and being hit with an explosion of noise from a Howler floating in front of Sirius’s face. “SHAME, WHAT AN ABSOLUTE SHAME, WE ARE SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU! THINK OF THE EXAMPLE YOU’RE SETTING FOR REGULUS! YOU DARE TO SCORN YOUR OWN BLOOD, YOUR OWN SACRED NAME! YOU DARE TO ASSOCIATE YOURSELF WITH FILTH, BESMIRCHING YOUR SACRED ANCESTORS, DREADFUL RECKLESS IDIOTIC, MY OWN FLESH BETRAYS ME—” And Sirius sat on the bed, bolt upright, legs folded, hands in his lap, staring listlessly into space while the Howler bellowed in his face. That such hatred could exist, and exist withing a family—James thought of his own parents, and felt a wave of nausea and anger. Then as the Howler burst into flames and burned away, and Sirius turned and saw him and jumped up, brushing the ash away from his trousers and not meeting his eyes.  “Hi James,” he said in an over-casual tone. “All right?”

But James couldn’t ignore it. “Was that your mother?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” said Sirius.

And James could think of nothing to say but the truth. He was shaking in anger and horror on the inside, the knowledge of his entire world was reeling (how could such vitriol exist? How could anybody believe anything but the best about his best friend? How could any parent say such horrible things to their child?), but what he said simply was, “Well, I hate to break it to you mate, but she sounds like a prat. Want to play Quidditch?”

And Sirius was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, seeming to struggle with how to react, but then he flashed a grin at James—a real one, James thought—and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” And, somehow, Sirius was not broken. Somehow, he took the estrangement of his family in hand and threw it right back in the world’s face and ploughed ahead anyway. And James learned to share everything he had—not just his class notes and chocolate frogs, but his deepest thoughts and longings and fears. His own family, his own heart. He learned to share everything Sirius had—every hard time, every good time, every outburst of rage, every moment of grief—he learned to stay there, hold on with him, take some of the pain on himself in the hope of alleviating just the slightest bit from Sirius. He learned from Sirius mutual exchange, the absolute trust, the meaning of brotherhood—the knowledge that Sirius would always do the best for him, the determination to do the best by him.

He learned how powerful it was to fully and completely love someone other than himself.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Edification: the instruction or improvement of a person intellectually or morally


End file.
